Day 29:
I've been locked up in my apartment.
You've called me seven times for a week, each at the same time as the day before. I haven't answered because I know you'd try to talk to me about it.
I don't want to talk about it.
I don't want to talk about how he made me feel just by looking at me.
How me managed to make me change my routine just by a few steps. (I haven't even been writing in this daily.)
How he managed to make me go insane by entering an elevator.
It's hard, and the worst thing? He doesn't even know what's happening with me. He knows I look like a mess. That's all.
How inconsiderate of him. He should at least check on me.
